Deus ex Machina
by Akikee
Summary: Meet Arthur Kirkland, age 23. Currently working as a Sales Executive, or to put it simply, a telemarketer. Perhaps all it takes is just a phone call to change you entire life, for the better, or for the worst. USUK. AU.
1. Chapter 1

"Shit! Shit! Shit! I'm so going to be late. Stupid train! Can't you go any faster?! Oh bollocks!"

Meet Arthur Kirkland, age 23, currently employed by the Beilschmidt Holdings as a sales executive. Presently, he had made it out of the very crowded train by jostling his way out with his briefcase and was now running towards the bus stop at breakneck speed, hoping that he had not missed the bus. This had been the morning ritual every single day, and almost all of the time, he would miss the bus. However today, the bus was still seen at the bus stop.

"Just a moment! Just a moment! Wait! Wait!" The bus was about to set off and the next bus would only come in fifteen minutes. Arthur could not afford to wait for another fifteen minutes, seeing that he was already running late for five minutes. A young bespectacled chap on the bus had kindly informed the bus captain that a rather dishevelled man was running after the bus, effectively stopping it and thus allowing Arthur to board the bus. Panting, Arthur could not even muster the breath to thank the boy as he fumbled through his briefcase and pocket, trying to locate his bus pass. The bus had started moving again, and it was difficult to maintain his balance. Every pocket of his pants was searched yet he could not find that damned plastic card that was still with him when he alighted from the train. Somewhere through the wing mirror of the bus, Arthur gaped in horror as a woman waved a bus pass that looked hideously like his in her hand while the bus crossed yet another traffic light.

"Sir, you have not tapped your card. If you do not have it, please pay your fares in cash," the bus captain grunted as he took a glance at Arthur. He had the 'I am done with this shitty excuse of a job' look plastered on his face as he eyed Arthur.

"Wait a moment. I think I dropped my bus pass while I was running here," Arthur replied as he rummaged his wallet to look for his coins.

"Then that would be $1.45."

Other than notes, Arthur found no coins in his wallet and he was reaching his stop soon. The bus captain looked as though he was beginning to lose his temper and make a report to his office about him being a freeloader.

"Here, it's just a meagre amount," a bright voice rang like church bells beside him. It was the same chap who had stopped the bus for him.

"Thank you, really thank you," Arthur thanked him profusely as he passed the cash to the bus captain who muttered under his breath that sounded like a complaint about the youths these days. The boy looked to be about nineteen or twenty, and was carrying a backpack. Arthur assumed that the boy was a university student. Seeing that he had reached his stop, he pressed for the bell and thanked the boy once more before rushing down and started running in the direction of the building where his office was located at.

* * *

Putting down his mug of tea at his table, Arthur cringed as he thought about his salary for the month. He had been twenty minutes late when he punched in his card. That would be half an hour's worth of money gone from his already pathetic salary. The secretary at the desk, Elizabeta, just gave him a sympathetic smile as he rushed in, and Arthur was sure that inside, she must be thinking what a loser he was, getting late every single day. It had been a miracle that his tardiness had not been taken note of by his supervisors. But then again, he had just started working two weeks ago, so perhaps those higher-ups have still not known of his existence.

Pulling out the thick stack of phone numbers he had to call, Arthur look up from his cubicle and sighed. This was certainly not the live he had envisaged while still in school. At Beilschmidt Holdings, what Arthur had to do was to call and promote educational magazines to students still schooling, since he was employed by the education department. So essentially, the title 'Sales Executive' was just a euphemism for telemarketer. When Arthur had started out, it had been difficult at first, because of the fear of offending potential customers and also the fear of rejection from them. However, two weeks had passed, and he had already received all kinds of complaints and threats to not call again unless he felt ready to receive a lawsuit. His table was kept simple, with only a telephone and a stationary holder. Pasted all around Arthur's cubicle were pieces of laminated papers of different colours with different guidelines and possible response.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur picked up the phone and started dialling the first number on his list.

"Hello, good morning. Is this Mr. Vargas? I'm Arthur calling from Beilschmidt Holdings and—"

"What the fuck do you want? I'm kinda busy right now. If you are selling whatever Viagra or something just get the fuck out of my face!" a highly irritated voice boomed from the receiver. Rolling his eyes, Arthur referred to the pink paper in front of him.

_1\. Apologise._

_2\. Explain your intentions for calling customer._

_3\. Stay patient. If target stays hostile, jump to 7._

_4\. Try to empathise with them and understand their concern. Do not interrupt when customer is talking. _

_5\. If target is willing to listen, explain your product and how it will be useful to them. Keep calm and professional. _

_6\. Summarise and confirm if they want to purchase product. _

_7\. Thank them and wish them a good day. _

"Sorry sir, I'm not selling any Viagra or whatsoever. I'm calling from Beilschmidt Holdings and I understand you are currently a student?"

"How do you even know that you creepy bastard?!"

"I'm—"

The call was rudely hung up, leaving Arthur still midsentence.

"Well, thank you very much and have a good day ahead," Arthur gritted his teeth as he slammed the receiver down and crossed out the name. Damn kids these days. Who the hell even taught them how to cuss and swear? A small voice gnawed his mind, reminding him that he himself was particularly vulgar at a very tender age but Arthur just promptly ignored it. Fingers already dialling the next number, he waited and counted the rings, before a rather soft and sweet voice came from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, is this Ms Lin Xiao Mei? This is Arthur calling from Beilschmidt Holdings and I understand you are currently a student?"

"Yes, may I know what's the problem?"

Referring to the green paper, Arthur felt himself entering his robot mode as he recited everything from the script, promoting the possible magazines while the girl at the opposite end hummed in response. At the background, Arthur could hear someone speaking in rapid Mandarin but it was muffled.

"So would you like to subscribe to a month of World Affairs as a try out before you subscribe to the one year package?"

"Sure! Thank you!"

"Welcome. I will send you an email regarding the details and you can pay through credit card or come directly to our office to make a payment."

"Okay sure thank—Yao! Stop talking! Oh Mr Arthur I'm so sorry! Did I scare you?"

Arthur who was currently holding his hand to his chest gave an awkward laugh as he held the receiver further away from his ear. "No, no. Of course not. I hope to hear from you soon. Thank you and have a great day."

With that, he hung up and put a tick beside the name. This was his third deal in two weeks and Arthur felt immensely elated, despite his slow progress.

* * *

"Kirkland! You are wanted by the Manager."

A sense of dread crawled up from Arthur's belly and settled heavily on his chest as he looked up from his cubicle into his co-worker's face which spelled nothing but trouble.

"Level 22 third door from the corridor. Good luck."

Putting down his pencil, Arthur stood up immediately and started smoothing his suit shirt, easing the creases that were accumulated from the whole day of work and running. He walked briskly to the lift lobby and waited for the lift to arrive. His heart was palpitating extremely fast with trepidation. Why was he summoned? Had they finally notice his tardiness and lack of sales record? Entering the lift, Arthur looked into the mirror and was devastated to find how dishevelled he looked. His hair was messy and tousled due to his incessant grabbing at it when met with difficult customers. His dark eye circles were prominent. The creases on his shirt were worse than he had imagined. He frantically tried smoothing his hair down and after finding that it was impossible, he settled on unfolding his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs.

The lift gave a loud ring, signalling to Arthur he had reached his destination. Every step he took felt like another step to imminent doom and his legs felt like lead. The polished marble tiles on the floor made him feel displaced from the posh surrounding and anxiety twisted his innards. Reaching the third door, Arthur gave a gulp as he knocked on the door three times, before hearing an answer.

"Enter."

The metal door handle felt cold to the touch as Arthur grabbed it and pushed it down. A blast of cold air sliced through him mercilessly as he pushed the door open.

"Good afternoon sir."

Mr. Berwald Oxenstierna had his chair turned away from Arthur, facing the long and large glass window.

"Have a sit."

Scurrying to the leather chair in front, Arthur sat down nervously, filling up less than half of the seat, his back extremely straight.

"I was informed of your tardiness, Mr. Kirkland. Out of fourteen days since you started working, you were only punctual for the first three days."

"I'm sorry sir."

"I looked through your sales records too. I was disappointed. Perhaps you liked the number three? If not can you explain why you have only made three deals?"

"I'm sorry sir." It took a lot for Arthur to not launch himself into his argumentative self. He really needed this job.

Mr. Oxenstierna turned around, and Arthur felt fear. Berwald Oxenstierna was an intimidating man. His glasses did nothing to shield those ice blue eyes, but to only emphasise their frost within them. His features were pale too, with his very pale face and blond hair. He seemed like the type who had frozen in time and Arthur felt chills running down his spine.

"I've did research on your background and found that you are currently supporting yourself and your brother?"

"Yes sir."

Mr. Oxenstierna gave him a thorough stare that felt more like an X-ray before rubbing his temples as he gave a loud sigh which surprised Arthur. "I've told Mr. Beilschmidt to give you another chance. Do not disappoint me."

"Wh-what?!"

The Manager raised one of his thin brows as he stared at Arthur who was still processing what he had heard. He was not scolded! He was not fired!

"Thank you! Thank you Mr. Oxenstierna! I will do my best!"

With that, Arthur bowed and rushed out of the door, not forgetting to close the door behind him softly. Exhaling, Berwald looked at the employee file before him.

"Arthur, Arthur. Why did you reject your scholarship?"

* * *

Feeling regenerated, Arthur pulled out yet another stack of numbers. It was already 7pm, and most of his colleagues had already left the office. The meeting with Mr. Oxenstierna had made him feel more encouraged to strive for better results. To think that his Manager had put in a good word for him made him grateful, and he was motivated to work harder. Dialling the number of Alfred Jones, he waited for the person to pick up the phone and heard the call connected.

"Good evening. Is this Mr. Alfred Jones? I am—"

"Oh Tori is that you?"

"Um, Mr. Jones I'm Art—"

"Come on, you don't have to pretend. I know you are the only one who would call my home number," the coy voice from the opposite end made Arthur cringe.

"Sorry sir, I'm not Tori, I am Arthur calling from—"

"I told you it's all right! My parents are not home so you can drop the pretence," Jones replied, then started getting into his own monologue which Arthur had completely tuned out.

"This is Arthur calling from Beil—"

"Wait Tori, since when have you developed an accent? And a…a British one…? Are you even Toris?!" The shocked high pitched voice that came from the other end was rather satisfying to Arthur's ears as he tried to control his laughter.

"No sir, as I've introduced, I'm Arthur calling from Beilschmidt Holdings and—"

"Perhaps this is not a very good time to call. Try next time. Good bye." The answer was abrupt and what was left was only the beeping of the phone.

Arthur burst out laughing as he stared at the receiver. Two weeks, and this was the most interesting thing that had happened. Perhaps this job does have its joys after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, Arthur knew it was only yesterday that he had promised himself to make an effort to wake up earlier and get to work earlier so as to not let Mr. Oxenstierna down and disappoint him, especially when the man had put in good words for him. However, things were easier said than done. It was the same routine all over again, with Arthur waking up later than planned, Arthur rushing into his brother, Peter's room, screaming bloody murder at him to wake up, Arthur hurrying to the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Why is it burnt again?"

It was the umpteenth time Arthur had heard this complaint and he was honestly getting immensely annoyed by Peter and his incessant and unnecessary comments. "Ask the toaster, not me. If you put that much effort in studying rather than questioning about every meal, you would have gotten that 'A' instead of an 'E' for your Geography class,'' he replied with a huff.

"Well, if you put in more effort in cooking rather than making up some poor excuse about the toaster, or rather, at least buy a new toaster, we would not be having this conversation every morning," Peter rebuked as he eyed the burnt mess on the plate in front of him, sniffing cautiously.

"Go and produce some money then, you twat," Arthur snapped as he took a swat at Peter's head, and immediately regretted it. Their financial status was not very stable, and both of them knew it was a very sensitive topic. Peter scowled sourly as he picked up the toast, wrinkled his nose and began taking small bites at the sides.

Though feeling enraged, Arthur did not want to make a scene right at the start of the day. Instead, he just glared at Peter before picking up his own toast. To be fair, it does taste a bit burnt. Perhaps if Arthur had put much more effort in adjusting the timing on the toaster and not nag at Peter, breakfast might be a tad bit better.

"All right, I'm done," Peter said as he pushed the plate away from him and decided to drink the milk instead. Arthur shot him a glance before murmuring angrily as he pulled the plate over to himself and gulped down the toast Peter had left. "All right, get you bag. And remember you tie. I don't need the Principal to give me regular calls on your attire," he said as he toss the plates into the sink and rinsed them before rushing to Peter who had already made his way to the door. Trying his last attempt to tame Peter's bed hair, Arthur found that it was impossible before giving up and opted to straighten his shirt instead.

"I'm selected to be the main speaker for public speaking tonight. You do remember that right? You will be there right?" Peter blurted suddenly as he glanced up at Arthur who froze for a moment.

"Of course I remember," Arthur replied smoothly while his mind was in a whirl. Truth to be told, he had promised Peter that he would turn up, but it was two weeks ago, before he actually found a job, and he had forgotten all about it now. Thinking about the torturously long call list and the fact that he had willingly signed up for OT, Arthur wondered if there's a way for him to be at two places at the same time. Peter had given him an uncharacteristic smile before hugging him and dashed out of the door, leaving him dumbfounded, not knowing what he could do to salvage this situation.

* * *

Another loud thud, and Arthur stared incredulously at the thick stack of papers before him.

"We need this filed by five today. Don't forget, they are supposed be filed according to the subscriber's account number. In ascending order." A staff whom Arthur could not recognise said as he stared distastefully at the sight of Arthur's desk. Nodding deliriously, Arthur felt the twinge of annoyance he had evolving into a fill blown temper. Somehow earlier that morning, his workload had multiplied, and on top of his call lists, he had to settle the administrative work such as creating accounts for the people who have subscribed to the magazines and keying their information into the computer system. It was supposedly to 'distribute the workload fairly'. Right when he reached the office, he had been trying his best to clear his backdated documents, but it only kept increasing, with people throwing their work at him. he had asked around if anybody could take over his shift for the night but was met with rejection instead, as everyone had already had plans, especially since it was a Friday night. Even the most helpful Tino had declined apologetically to his request, stating that he had a date while blushing furiously.

Arthur knew his workload increasing was done in spite however. Who wouldn't if they have a Francis Bonnefoy as their Team Leader? At the tender age of twenty-five, Francis Bonnefoy was promoted to being the Team Leader of the Sales Executives and has had high standings in the company. Rumour has it that he was a good friend of the boss, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and had used this connection to eradicate his opponent s and climbed up the corporate ladder. That Arthur could not be so sure, since he had just joined the company. But to say that the Frenchman had no abilities would be rather harsh, since Arthur had witnessed his prowess in promoting and selling magazines like hotcakes with his sweet tongue. Furthermore, he had in fact heard of his name while he was still in school. Beilschmidt, Bonnefoy and Carriedo. From what Arthur knew, they were two years his senior, and had gotten along very well. The setting up of this company was even collaborated by the three of them. Thus, Arthur was sure that Bonnefoy might actually have genuine skills. That aside, he had absolutely no respect for the man and would rather not interact with him. But certainly not today, since he had to find a way to get himself replaced for OT and get to Peter's public speaking.

He had confronted Bonnefoy in the morning and asked in the most polite manner he could, but only received a raised eyebrow that was perfectly sculpted.

"You want to take an urgent leave for tonight? But Kirkland, you have willingly signed up for OT. We have no one else to replace you, seeing that it's such a sudden request," the Frenchman had replied. "But, perhaps if you lunch with me, I might consider?"

Arthur had heard that Bonnefoy was a womanizer, but not that he was into men. He was taken aback when Bonnefoy had circled behind him and closed his office door, before approaching him, a smile carved on his face. "What do you say, a lunch date with me, and I'll remove you from OT for the night."

"Um, sir," Arthur began, feeling extremely uncomfortable at the close proximity of the Frenchman. "I just-hey! Stop that, you pervert!" Slapping Bonnefoy's hands away his from backside, Arthur backed away from the man as he looked for a weapon around the office.

"Hey, calm down, calm down. There's no need to-"

"Well sir, I got that I'm not getting that urgent leave approved so please excuse me," Arthur said curtly as wrenched at the door handle and dashed out of the office. He was just one step away from punching Bonnefoy. In normal circumstances, he would, but this was his superior, and Arthur really needed the job. A grope in the butt is however, too much.

Thinking about the morning meeting, Arthur groaned and buried his head into his hands. Damn bloody hell. He had not provoked his superior. There's absolutely no way to lie low and do his job now, considering if he even managed to retain his job, seeing that Bonnefoy might just filed a complaint against him and get him fired. It was time for lunch but Arthur doesn't feel like eating. Who would if they had endless things to finish?

"Hey Kirkland, sorry about earlier. I was under the wrong presumption," Bonnefoy's voice sounded from behind, and inwardly, it made Arthur groaned even louder.

"It's all right. Please, if there's nothing else, I would like to continue my work."

"Well, here's the deal actually. If you manage to finish all your work, you can be exempted from OT. How's that?"

"Are you offering me another deal or something?" Arthur said as he turned his chair around. Bonnefoy had a smirk plastered to his face. Nothing spelled right there.

"Well, the deal is simple. Finish your work and you can go. I'm not an unreasonable person. Good luck. And here, I bought you a coffee as an apology." With that, he walked away.

Arthur gave a snort and ignored the coffee. He WILL get off on time.

_**A/N: sorry it's very short. Time to sleep and get ready for work for me tomorrow actually. Thanks for reading and till next time. **_


	3. Chapter 3

No, Arthur did not manage to finish his work on time. The coffee that Francis bought spilt all over his desk, soaking the documents that he was supposed to file. He went to photocopy them again, but the photocopy machine decided to be an arse and the papers were jammed instead. After finally getting the machine to work, Arthur though it would be the end of his unlucky streak, but there was more to come. He was able to knock off on time initially, had he not been delayed for a total of fifteen minutes due to a dumb phone call. He had called the client that was on his list and was rewarded with a phone prank instead. His ears still rang from the high-pitched screech from whoever that was from the other side of the line. Currently, he had just finished rushing down from the flight of stairs (because the lift was taking too bloody long) and was running from the lobby to the main entrance of the company, only to be met with the icy chilled wind before realising he had forgotten to take his coat with him. The road was empty and silent—something that was unusual for a Friday night. Glancing at his watch and frantically refreshing the bus application on his phone, he was dismayed to find that the next bus would only arrive in twenty minutes. Deciding to take a taxi instead, Arthur ran out to the main road, flailing his hands out, trying to hail a taxi. There were more cars out here, but none stopped for him. Finally, a taxi stopped, but a few miles away from him. Running to the taxi, he was almost relieved, until he heard the loud argument coming from the car.

"No! You get out. I don't want to hear any crappy explanations! Out!" The taxi door was opened and a boy with shoulder-length brown hair was kicked out of the taxi. All the whole time, Arthur thought it was an ordinary lover's spat as he opened the door of the taxi at the other side and slipped in, thinking that both passengers would be alighting. When however, it was not the case when the other door was closed with a loud slam and the other passenger was still inside. The window was reeled down as he continued shouting profanities at the other boy.

"No, listen to me! It was just a moment of—"

"You can continue sucking on his dick for all I care! Drive please!"

"Eh…? No…?!" Before Arthur could even spout a word, the driver drove on at an extremely fast speed while the boy, looking out at the window at his side continued fuming and muttering under his breath. Damn! The universe must be against him! Just when he thought he finally caught a taxi, he had to meet with such a situation which he was not prepared to deal with. Where the hell was the driver driving off to? Peter's school was at the other side of town, and the taxi was going off at an opposite direction. Knowing that he had to speak now, Arthur hit at the back of the driver's seat. "Hey, stop! Stop!"

As if only sensing Arthur's presence now, the other passenger gave alarmed cry before steadying himself, grabbing onto the handle at the top of the car. "Who the hell are you?! When did you get in here?!"

From the dim lighting, Arthur could only make out certain features of the boy. He could see that he was a boy in his late teens, and was wearing a pair of spectacles. Other than that, it was quite dark to see clearly.

"It doesn't matter who I am. Could you please let me turn the taxi around to get to my brother's school first? I was actually rushing to get to his school for his speech," Arthur pleaded politely as he could, but the boy seemed not to care. Instead, he eyed him up and down before sneering.

"Turn around for you? What makes you think that I would? Didn't you see that I am in a very bad mood now? You can go catch another cab for all I care. I got in first, and I have not even start demanding cab fees from you see how you rode along for such a long time!"

It was very clear that the boy refused to listen to Arthur's request. The driver had turned around to ask him exactly which directions they wanted to go, and the boy was adamant on getting to a street which Arthur knew was full of bars and night clubs. Checking his watch, he groaned inwardly as he calculated the time needed to get to Peter's school. At this rate, he could make it on time to his school, but that's provided that this spoiled brat would stop his screeching and actually let him change course.

"Please, I have to go. This is very important—"

"Like I care! Get another cab if you want, you are not getting this."

Knowing that negotiations cannot be done, Arthur grabbed the boy at the front of his shirt and drew himself close to him, mustering his fiercest face. He had hoped that his age would give him a slight advantage and bully this boy into giving in to him. Glaring at the boy, he hissed, "Look brat, I have no time to play with you and mope about your breakup story together. I already had a crappy day at work and any moment I will start hitting anything I can see. I am needed somewhere now, and I want to get there quick. So stop your whining and—omphf!"

Before Arthur knew it, he was thrown harshly backwards as the boy shoved him back and pressed him down. His face was near and Arthur could feel his breath on his face, lips and neck. Struggling to break free, he found that the boy possessed an immense strength and he could not even budge a muscle. Looking up at the boy's face, he could see that the boy had a strange expression on his face. "Hey let go! You on drugs or something?"

"Your eyes look beautiful."

"Ya right my arse, you stop your nonsense and—wait what did you say?" Alarmed, Arthur tried even harder to wriggle out from the boy but to no avail. For some reason, the boy was panting softly and Arthur couldn't help noticing that he kept licking his lips. Kicking at the seat of the driver, Arthur tried to get him to stop the taxi, but was promptly ignored. "Okay brat, game's over now. I get it, you want to waste yourself in some club or something right? Fine, I won't hinder you from your night activities. Just let me go and I'll get my own taxi and we'll go our separate ways ok? So get off—ngh!" Eyes widening as his whole body went lax, Arthur was beyond shocked and was unable to take in the situation. The boy crushed his lips against his and was…kissing him. It was clumsy and wet as the boy continued moulding his lips against Arthur's, his tongue forcing the tightly clamped mouth of Arthur's to open. Realising that Arthur was pretty good at shutting his mouth, the boy moved on to kissing his jaw and down his neck, biting and sucking while his hands ran down Arthur's body, nimble fingers popping off the top buttons of Arthur's shirt.

Having recovered from his initial shock, Arthur thrashed around as he tried head butting the boy but it was impossible at the awkward position he was in. Heart pounding, he felt his whole body going hot even though it was a very cold night. The boy was evidently very experienced in his administration as he licked Arthur's nipple through his shirt, wetting the fabric. Unable to suppress a moan, Arthur blushed as his traitorous body arched up to meet the boy's. Seemingly satisfied, the boy took this moment to steal another kiss, this time gaining full access into Arthur's mouth. Brain still functioning, Arthur resisted as he regained his struggling and refused to return the kiss. The boy seemed bothered by it as he stopped, looking annoyed and confused.

"Come, be good. Kiss me back," he whispered at the shell of Arthur's ear, triggering a shiver down Arthur's spine.

"No, no. Let me go—"

Silenced by yet another kiss, Arthur knew that things were going out of hand, and the taxi driver seemed to be oblivious or just refused to help. It was only when he felt something hard poking him that he realised the boy was hard. Biting down hardly at the boy's lips, Arthur used the element of surprise to overpower the boy and pushed him off him.

"Stop you perverted brat! Stop here! Stop here!" Arthur screeched as he hit at the driver's head before the taxi came to a stop. Gathering his bag, he ran out before the boy could react in time. "Fuck you! Go find another fuckboy! If I ever see you again, I'll file a police report on you!"

With that, Arthur slammed the door shut as he started running to a brightly lit area without even a backward glance, buttoning up his shirt haphazardly. It was only when the taxi drove off that Arthur heaved a sigh of relief, mind still traumatised by the earlier events. He did not really catch the expression of the boy when he jumped out of the taxi, but he could tell he was shocked, yet amused. Was this how kids behave nowadays? The chilly night sobered him up as he rubbed his hands, hoping to catch a bus instead.

It was not until another forty minutes that Arthur finally reached Peter's school. By then, the speech had already ended, and the school was already closed. A lone figure sat at the gates and as Arthur hurried forward, the figure raised his head up, eyes red and puffy.

"Hey Peter, Peter, no, sorry. Sorry, I couldn't make it on time," Arthur cooed as he tried to hug Peter but was met with rejection.

"You promised! And there I was, being all excited by the prospect that you might actually appear—did something happened?" The accusatory tone turned to one of concern immediately as Peter looked carefully at Arthur. "Did you get into a fight…is that a bite mark?! What happened?! You looked dishevelled!"

Hands covering his neck instinctively, Arthur shook his head. "No, nothing happened. No, really! Don't!"

Peter had wrenched his hand away and pulled down the collar of Arthur's shirt, revealing the bruises caused earlier. His eyes teared up as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this happened. Do they hurt?"

"No, really, nothing happened. I hit him before he could do anything," Arthur assured Peter as he ruffled his hair. "Who am I? I'm your almighty big brother! Come, let's go home. I'll carry you just for today," Arthur smiled, bending down.

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes."

What Arthur couldn't bear to tell Peter was that he had actually enjoyed it.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, his phone was left on the taxi and the boy had found it when it suddenly lighted up. It was a text message. Curious, he took the phone and tried to unlock it but found that it needed a pass code. However, at least now he knew. The guy that had captivated him was called Arthur. He liked the name. It meant noble and courageous, like the tales he used to hear when he was young. Smiling, he pocketed the phone and spoke to the driver.

"Hey, I changed my mind. I'm going home."


	4. Chapter 4

It was not until the next morning that Arthur realised that his phone was missing. Well, more precisely, it was only when the sun shone in on his face that he realised that the alarm on his phone was not working. Fumbling sleepily under his pillow, a deep sense of dread filled his stomach as he opened his eyes and took a slow glace at the clock on the wall. CRAP! He was late! Peter? Was he late for school as well? Jumping up from his bed, he rushed to the next room, only to see it empty with the bed messily made. Running to the kitchen, he found Peter eating his cereal while reading a book, only to realise that it was Saturday. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, he walked back to his room while Peter looked up from his book and glanced at him weirdly.

"You might want to wear a scarf or something around for the time being," came Peter's voice while Arthur went to take a towel for his shower. "Your night yesterday looked rather eventful."

"And your bed is not made neatly!" Flipping a finger, Arthur slammed the door. Damn that brat. Where was that cute and concerned brother he had yesterday? Looking into the mirror, Arthur realised Peter had a point. The bruises (no, he refused to call them hickeys or love bites) were more prominent, and his lips were still slightly swollen. Turning the tap on, he let the warm water wash himself as he stood under it, deep in thought. Had he forgotten something? What was it…? Yes! His phone! Where was it? Racking his brains, Arthur came to three conclusions. First, he might have left it on the bus on the way to Peter's school. Second, in the office. Third, being the worst possible option, was that it was in the…taxi! Banging his head against the wall, he cursed loudly while his mind involuntarily recollected the scene from the previous night. It was shocking, having not been touched like that by anyone for his entire twenty-three years of existence. Arthur, who staunchly believed that he was very much heterosexual and conservative, found that it was not disgusting at all. It had been…pleasurable. Groaning loudly as he realised he had gotten a reaction simply by thinking about the incident, Arthur switched the water to the cold tap.

"This is nothing. There's nothing to this. It's just a phase, I'm just having a second spurt of puberty, I'm just facing my mid-life crisis earlier, that's all. Maybe someone is just trying to test me. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine," he chanted to himself. The best thing was that his body begged to differ.

* * *

"The number you have dialled is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

Slamming the phone receiver down, Arthur got up from the sofa and started pacing around. He had important customer information in his phone. What if somebody picked it up and leaked them? Well, there was the passcode, but for convenience's sake, and the belief that he would never, ever lose his phone, he had set it to "1234". Yes, legit, laugh at him for his stupidity and naivety, but that was the reality to which he deeply regretted now.

"I can send a text to your phone if you want," Peter piped up at the side while flipping through the channels on the television. "Perhaps it ran out of batts."

"Pass me your phone then," Arthur said as he plopped himself beside Peter, muttering under his breath, "It better not be that brat who has it."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," Arthur replied as he took Peter's phone and searched for his own number. What should he type?

Looking at Arthur, Peter sighed loudly and snatched his phone back. "At the speed you are going, your phone would have already been sold to the black market with all the information inside leaked. I'll just text something to see if anybody picked it up. If they reply, it'll mean that your passcode is broken, which I think is highly possible, by the way. Then, you'll just have to call the telco to cancel your phone services."

"And when in the hell were you smarter than me," Arthur mused as he ruffled Peter's hair.

"I've always been the smarter one," came the reply. "See, does this sound casual enough?" Peter had typed: _Hey bro, meeting at 12 later?_ Not really having an opinion, Arthur nodded and watched Peter pressed the send button.

The day went passed with Arthur catching up with the house chores and cooking (disastrously of course) while Peter did his homework and occasionally popped up with questions for him. In a flash, it was already close to evening and there was still no reply.

"There, perhaps there are some people who are really stupid enough to not break your passcode that exist," Peter said as he showed Arthur the blank screen for the umpteenth time.

"It might be that they are considerate enough to not invade other people's privacy," Arthur snapped back, feeling relieved yet a sense of unease crept up slowly at the back of his mind. He had been on the edge the whole day, tensed and waiting for the reply. What if he never recovered his phone? But something gnawed at him, and it was not the possibility of not getting his phone back. It was something more. What _if_ the person replied? Who would it be?

"Perhaps you remembered wrongly. It might be in your office all this while," Peter said sympathetically. "Knowing that memory span of yours, it might just be possible."

"I wish," Arthur muttered under his breath as he glanced at the clock. The dread in his stomach was filling. His intuition told him that it might be with the bespectacled teen. At the thought of it, his stomach did another turn. That night, Arthur was plagued with uncommon dreams. Dreams that were filled with constant licking and sucking, dreams that were filled with the glint from the spectacle frames.

* * *

"Oi, there's a reply."

"What?! Give it to me!"

Throwing down the pan into the sink, Arthur dashed into the living room where Peter was at and made a grab for his phone, but was stopped by Peter who refused to surrender it. Instead, he tapped on the message and began reading it aloud.

"Hey there kid, Peter, I presume. As you would know by now, I am not your brother. I happened to pick up his phone and was looking for a chance to return it to him. Could you convey this message to him? Don't worry, I did not go through the contents of his phone. Sorry for the late reply as I had to find a suitable charger to charge his phone. Alfred. There, you have it, this person has your phone," Peter said victoriously. "What should I reply?"

Snatching his phone over, the first thing that Arthur wanted to type was to ask if this Alfred guy was the perverted boy he met on the taxi. However, that would be extremely rude and inappropriate if it was not the boy. Rereading the message, he realised the person from the other line was painfully polite, judging from how he worded his message. Had he mulled over it for a long time? Perhaps it was not that boy?

"Hey, it's mine. Don't grab it like that," Peter whined as he tried to snatch his phone back.

"And I'm the one paying for the bills, mind you," Arthur retorted, but released his hold on the phone.

"At this point, we should play civil and ask him out to meet," Peter said as he began typing.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

"No. Why?" Peter smirked and hit the send button before Arthur could stop him.

"Wait! What did you reply?!" Pressing Peter down onto the sofa, he seized the phone from his flailing arms. Peter had replied: _Okay! How about meeting at 1900 tomorrow? He'll confirm the venue again._ "When did I agree?!"

"You just did when the message was sent," Peter grinned evilly as he got away from Arthur. "This is for not attending my speech."

"Weren't you perfectly fine with it previously?! I was attacked! Attacked by this strange perv—Strange kid!" Arthur roared, but stopped himself in time. He did not want Peter to know too much of what had happened.

"Attacked? I'm not so sure. But ever since that night, your nights had been eventful. Ooohh, aaahhh, nnngg," Peter cooed as he pursed his lips up for a kiss while gesturing about.

"What the hell! It had only been a night since Friday! And stop those disgusting sounds you are making!" Arthur flushed furiously as Peter continued, before his phone screen lit up again. "Wait! Let me see! What did he reply?"

"He said okay, and recommended a café," Peter said. "Arthur Kirkland, your life is taking a turn. You are finally invited to a café after existing for twenty-three years, albeit sadly not for a date."

Smacking Peter's head with the cushion on the sofa, Arthur looked at the reply and felt the sense of dread returning. In all honesty, it certainly was not his first time to be invited to a café, but the time he did, it was not for anything good. In fact, it was a couple of social workers who initiated a meeting there to talk about Peter's custody rights after their parents left. They had wanted to take Peter away. Of course Peter would not have known of the meeting. All in all, Arthur certainly did not like cafes.

* * *

The next day at work, Arthur was early for once. Francis made such a huge ruckus about him being on time and it being a lucky day to buy lottery that it made his already anxious morning worse. Sitting at his desk, he felt a splitting headache coming. Looking at the never-ending pile of work, he sighed and went to the pantry to get himself another cup of tea. He had not slept well the previously night, and he felt like a fool for that. Why in the seven bloody hells would he be nervous? He's a fucking adult for God's sake, not some vulnerable teenager who has no idea how the society runs. Splashing some water onto his face, he returned back to his seat with his cup and inhaled deeply. Yes, he can do it. He'll finish his job, get his phone back, and his life would be normal again. That's the plan.

Sifting through his folders, he found the list of customers whom he had called but all had requested for a follow-up instead. Deciding to start from this list, Arthur downed his tea in one gulp and stretched himself before dialling the numbers. After twenty minutes, he realised these customers were uncontactable. They must have blocked his number the first chance they could. The follow-up call is a lie… Feeling mentally sick and tired, he dialled the last number on the list while rubbing his temples. It got through, and after a few rings, the call was picked up. Eyes snapping open, Arthur grabbed his pen and immediately sat straighter.

"Good morning, this is Arthur calling from Beilshmidt Holdings. Is this Mr. Alfred Jones? I believed I called previously—"

"Who are you looking for?"

"Eh…a Mr. Alfred Jones…?"

"Oh, he's in school. Call this number instead," the voice from the other line said and gave Arthur another number before hanging up, not giving Arthur the chance to thank him.

Looking at the number he scribbled, Arthur yawned and dialled it, listening to the hypnotic rings. Would anybody pick up? Damn, he felt really sleepy… Maybe it's not the right number? Or was the person preoccupied? It's class time now anyway…

"Hello?"

Shocked by the sudden bright voice, Arthur nearly jumped up from his seat.

"Good-good morning!" he spluttered, and chocked on his saliva, resulting in a series of coughs.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Sorry! This is Arthur, calling from Beilshmidt Holdings. I called previously—"

"Arthur…?" There was a slight pause from the other line. "Oh, Beilshmidt Holdings…the magazine?"

"Yes! I believed I called previously but caught you at an…an inconvenient timing, I was wondering if you would be interested in subscribing to the magazines we have—"

"Sorry, I'm a little busy right now. Why don't we meet up to talk instead? You can then bring samples of the magazine to me as well."

"Eh…huh?" Feeling still a bit dazed, Arthur did not really register what the other person was saying.

"I really have to go. We'll meet at the café across the Time Square at 1845? You _are_ Arthur right? Okay, see you. Bye."

The call ended abruptly before Arthur could respond. Was he just…led on? The person certainly did not sound like how he did the first time he called him. He sounded more...mature? Moreover, he sounded hauntingly familiar. The café the boy had said was the same as the Alfred who picked up his phone. What a coincidence! Meeting two Alfreds in one day? Pressing on his temples, Arthur groaned. Damn, his life was so messed up.

However, despite the impending meeting, Arthur managed to finish his work on time. He reached his calling quota and had cleared most of the files on his table. Francis had let him off early, saying he deserved the rest and praised him for his hard work, encouraging him to continue his good work. Arthur mentioned to him the after-office-hours meeting with the prospective customer, and Francis was all nods, telling him it's normal and gave him lots of sample magazines to bring to the meeting.

Lugging his bag, Arthur trudged to his destination. The café was in fact close to his office, and it only took a good fifteen-minute walk to get there. Upon reaching, Arthur took in the sight of the café. It was decorated quite nicely, with a retro theme. The floors however made him uncomfortable though, seeing that it's checkered in the colour of black and white. It made him dizzy. A shop attendant came over to ask if he made a reservation.

"I'm meeting someone. Alfred Jones."

"Oh, this way."

The shop attendant led him towards a rather quiet corner of the café. The customer he was supposed to meet was sitting with his back facing him. He was quite well-built, and had a head of golden hair. Thanking the shop attendant, Arthur hurried over to the table. First rule was to never let the customer wait longer than he should.

"Mr. Jones, I hope you didn't wait for too long? I'm Arthur, Arthur Kirkland from Beil—Why are you here?!"

There, sitting at the table in his full glory was the boy from the taxi.

"Is that how you greet customers? I rather perplexed by this unique greeting," Alfred Jones smiled as he stood up. "Nice to meet you, Arthur Kirkland. I am Alfred Jones."

_**A/N: Dun dun dun. **__**I would vote Peter as the wingman of the year though. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot**_

* * *

Arthur had really hated café meetings. He would not mind elsewhere, like the park, the office, some random fast-food restaurant, but NOT a café. His first experience there had not been great. So was this. it must be divine will, trying to warn him to avoid cafes in the future. Staring at the boy, Alfred Jones, in front of him, all Arthur wanted to do was to leave immediately. But he could not do that.

"Well, don't look so tensed. It's a public area here, I won't do anything," Jones said cheekily as he gave him a toothy grin.

"Are you implying that if it's not a public place, you would do something? Sorry, but I don't think I can continue with this. If you are really interested in subscribing for the magazines, I can refer you to my superior. I think he will be better in serving your needs," Arthur replied curtly, his knuckles turning white from grabbing tightly at his bag under the table.

The boy looked taken aback for a moment before he returned a smile, this time less confident and certain.

"Chill there okay? I was just trying to ease some of the tension," he said.

"Well, great on you for that, but no, it did nothing to ease the tension," Arthur replied. "Now just return me my-"

"What do you want to drink? My treat," the boy was completely ignoring his words as he shoved a menu right under his nose. "To apologise of course."

Looking at the menu, Arthur really wanted to shove it back to the boy's face and tell him to fuck off. But then again, since it was his treat, Arthur decided to order the most expensive items on the menu. "I hope you won't mind if I order something to eat then."

"Of course not."

Turning back to the menu, Arthur realised he understood none of the coffee names. They looked too refined and sophisticated for someone who contents himself with instant coffee most of the time. Like what the bloody hell is a doppio or a ristretto? But at least he could still read numbers and understand the price. Settling for the most expensive coffee and a lobster roll, he hoped to see Jones's face drop. That will teach him not to mess with an adult. But instead, he was still all smiles. Looking back at the prices, he was sure that this was not something an ordinary kid who is still schooling could afford.

"Hmm…maybe you would want to change the coffee? I heard it's-"

"No, I want this," Arthur replied. There! It was indeed too expensive for Jones. The worried look on his face satisfied Arthur immensely. After giving the order to the waiter, Arthur pulled out a few of the magazine samples from his bag. "Here, there are the magazine titles. If you subscribe with us now, it's a two-year subscription with an annual fee of three hundred and sixty dollars."

Jones looked uninterested in the magazines. "I know. My dad is one of the shareholders in this company. We have them for free."

Arthur felt his blood boiling. In fact, he felt fooled. "Then what are you here for?!"

His voice had been too loud, as almost half the café had turned towards their directions. The waiter had a concerned expression adorned on his face as he made a move to approach them, while Jones dismissed him away.

"To meet you? I believe we got off at a bad start actually, with the phone call, then the…incident on the taxi," Jones said as he looked carefully at Arthur.

"I don't mind the bad start. We are not going to meet anymore anyway. Now return me my phone and we can both return to our lives, and pretend all this never happened," Arthur snapped as he held out his hand to request for his phone.

"I just want someone to talk to," Jones looked down sadly at the table.

Remembering how the boy sounded so jovial in the phone call, then seeing his look of betrayal in the taxi, Arthur felt a twinge of sadness for him. There the boy was, brimming with happiness when he thought his boyfriend was calling him, only to have this happiness being dashed by his boyfriend cheating on him. As bad of a personality he actually has, Arthur wouldn't wish for this to happen to anyone.

"Uh… well, it's over. At least you can look for another one I guess," Arthur said awkwardly as he kept his hands busy by keeping the magazines into his bag.

"We were together for three months! Three whole months and out of the three months, there were two where he was seeing somebody else!"

Okay, this was really awkward. Arthur had no intention on listening to somebody's sob story. He was here to make money, get his phone, then return back to his safe haven of a home to sleep. This progression was clearly not what he had in mind to be honest. But Jones just continued.

"And what was the best thing? That guy he was seeing was my friend! Can you believe that?!"

"Okay, you might want to keep your volume down?" Arthur said frantically as he looked around self-consciously. What had he done to deserve this?

"I-"

"Hi sir, here's your coffee and lobster roll," the voice of the waiter saved Arthur from further embarrassment as he placed the food and drink onto the table. The lobster roll looked indeed delicious and Arthur wanted to bring it home to Peter instead. Thanking the waiter, he looked at his coffee. He was unsure what exactly he had ordered, but it smelled nothing like his instant coffee packs. In fact, it smelled like another drink familiar to him, but he couldn't exactly place it.

Jones had already had his own coffee prior to his entrance, and he was stirring aimlessly at it, adding in more sugar cubes, to which Arthur cringed in disgust. It must be ridiculously sweet.

"I hope you don't mind me. I'm just too upset by this breakup," Jones said as he downed the whole cup of coffee in one shot, before waving to the waiter to order another one. "Why aren't you eating? I heard that this is nice."

"I'll take it home instead."

"You can order another one to bring home for your brother you know, I don't mind, since you are here accompanying me." Arthur had no idea how this boy was able to read his mind, but since he offered, Arthur decided he shall exploit him to the fullest. While the waiter came to take Jones's coffee order, he ordered another roll to be taken away. Then, he took a bite from his own roll and was immediately glad that he had chosen his from the menu. It was definitely worth the money. It tasted extremely delicious, nothing like what he usually eats or cooks. While savouring his roll, he realised Jones was looking at him, and Arthur did not like that.

"Can you not look at me while I eat?" It was unnerving because Jones ignored him and continued staring. Perhaps he was looking really ridiculous trying to fit the roll into his mouth, or when he tries to lick the sauce on his fingers.

Jones had already launch into his own monologue about how well he had treated his ex-boyfriend, whom Arthur would presume to be called Tori, and about all the little things they had done or _not_ done within these three months. Taking a sip from his coffee, he found that it tasted weird. There seemed to be some alcoholic taste to it, but he can't exactly say he did not like it. In fact, with every sip, it tasted nicer. His mind felt blurry as he tried very hard to stay awake. He kept drinking from his cup, but felt his eyelids grew heavier instead.

"…his betrayal. And so, after I met you, I've decided to offer you a proposition. Why not you be my boyfriend so that I can get back at him?"

That woke Arthur up instantly as he dropped the cup in his hands. Luckily, it was already empty, and it dropped on the napkin.

"What did you just say?!"

"Of course, since it has to be mutually beneficial, I would help you with your sales so you can report back to your boss."

"Wait a minute, how do you even know I am not doing well in my job?!"

Jones looked at him as if he had grown another head. "I told you my dad is a shareholder in your company. I am friends with your manager."

This increasingly seemed like an elaborate ploy to Arthur as he tried to comprehend what was going on. His head hurts as he tried to think and everything seemed to blur in and out of focus.

"So what's your call?"

"Does that mean I am your rebound?! What do you take me for you brat?!" Arthur stood up angrily, trying to balance.

"Sorry he is just drunk. I told him not to drink that coffee already. May I have the bill?"

Staggering out of the café, Arthur blinked and rubbed his eyes. The lights looked too bright. What was in that coffee? Alcohol? As much as he likes to drink, he usually does it at home due to his low alcohol tolerance. Behind, he could hear that Jones had caught up with him, grabbing his arm.

"Careful. You can't even tell where to go," his voice sounded strangely mature and deep for some reason.

"Let me go. I can walk by myself," Arthur said as he tried to shrug away from Jones's grip, but immediately lost his balance and almost fell forward, if not for Jones who pulled him backwards, falling back against his body. He felt Jones readjusting their position as he pulled one of his arm across his shoulder for support, while the other arm was wrapped around his waist before he started leading him to walk.

"Let go!"

Before he even knew it, his mind had started to freshen up a bit due to the cold air. Jones had led him to a less crowded area, and it looked like some shady back alley of a building. "Where are we? What are you doing?!"

His back was pressed against the dirty brick wall as Jones placed both hands on the wall on either sides of his head. It was then that Arthur realised how much taller Jones was. Without warning, Jones had closed in the distance between their faces, and pecked at the side of his mouth, then moved to the crook of his neck.

"Wait! Stop!"

"Shh… I've been holding back for so long just now in the café. You don't know how alluring you looked while eating. I just can't imagine how it will feel with you going down on me," the raspy and husky voice of Jones made Arthur tremor. "I've been thinking about you since that day. Do you know how happy I was when I realised you are the same Arthur that had called me the other time? I knew for sure I could meet you with that pretext. I even went to research everything about you."

Jones had already started unbuttoning the top of his shirt and began sucking at his neck. He seemed to be elated to see the previous bruises he had left as he gave a throaty chuckle. Arthur felt weak to his feet. His body was responding to the pleasure and his mind, being numbed by the alcohol was not working. It was only when he felt a sharp pain on his left nipple that he regained some form of sobriety.

"Stuh-stop that! I...ah…I don't-"

The slight humming of Jones vibrated against his skin as he tried to struggle free, but Arthur was once again faced with the immense strength of the boy. The pain on his chest slowly became pleasurable, and he felt his whole body burning. Jones then released his nipple and had pressed him harder against the wall, and was grinding very hard against his groin. A groan escaped from his mouth, to which Jones smiled.

"You like that?"

"Shu-shut up-ngh. No don't."

Jones's hand had travelled down his back in very gentle swirls and caress, making Arthur's spine tingle. His legs wobble as he grabbed onto the wall behind him for support.

"No, I-I'm not even queer, Jones. Fuh-find someone else," huffed Arthur as he tried to regulate his breathing. He felt his pants getting tighter and was afraid to see if he was in fact aroused by this boy.

"You don't have to be queer. Just be here for me," Jones breathed into his ears, his breathing also ragged. The little moans emitted from him did nothing but made Arthur painfully harder.

"Jones, Jones stuh-" Arthur gasped, feeling Jones's hard cock against his.

"Alfred. Call me Alfred," came the reply. It seemed like Jones he himself too was on the brink of release.

"Jones, stop, stop please stop," Arthur tried again, his plea came out sounding like cries, to which Jones ignored as he slipped his hands down to grabbed his arse and gave them a squeeze. It was too much. Arthur was never touched like his and he did not even know his body was so sensitive. The grinding at the front coupled with the squeezing at the back made him lose all self-consciousness as he gave a strangled cry, white spots appearing in his vision as he felt a patch of warm stickiness in his pants. His vision then darkened and the last thing he knew was that Jones's chest felt unreasonably warm and safe.

* * *

_**A/N: Forgive me for I have sinned. I don't know how to rate this. Dub con? Anyways, if it seemed unnatural to you, don't worry, you are absolutely right, for I have zero experience in such matters. **_


End file.
